


De Testis Absentia: On the Absence of a Witness

by Nimohtar



Series: Lex Duodecim Tabularum: The Laws of the Twelve Tables [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Ancient Roman Laws, Ancient Roman Names, Don't copy to another site, Finally Putting My Degree to Good Use, How To Summon A Witness to Trial, M/M, My First Spideypool Fic, Pre-Slash, Spideypool Big Bang 2018, Unconventional courtship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimohtar/pseuds/Nimohtar
Summary: In Ancient Rome, Petrus Bennio Pacor lives under the generous patronage of Antonius Ennius Starca. When Antonius’ witness in a court hearing fails to appear, Antonius invokes a law to summon said witness - but sends Petrus to do the deed in his stead.The witness? One Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni, a former soldier currently trying to eke out a living in the poorer area of the city as a debt-enforcer - and wholly uninterested in the rules and regulations of Rome.Somehow, Petrus must persuade Vado to do his duty; Vado intends to avoid it as long as possible…especially if it means Petrus continues to come calling at his door.





	De Testis Absentia: On the Absence of a Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements:  
> Firstly, I have to give my absolute love and thanks to Limeonik for their unwavering support and enthusiasm during the last few months as I worked on my first Spideypool fic. Their artwork is absolutely incredible, and was the only thing keeping me going when I struggled to meet deadlines, because I knew I could NOT let them down. 
> 
> My thanks to the mods for organising the Spideypool Big Bang, and their patience and encouragement to all involved. It’s been a joy to be a part of it, and I hope to sign up for the next one! 
> 
> Lastly, I am grateful to Vixen13 for her willingness to listen to me prattle on about this fic from its first concept to completion, and calling in GeekMom for last minute beta support as I panicked the night before posting. 
> 
> Author’s Notes:  
> Although I have “Romanised” the names of the characters, I haven’t followed accurate Roman naming conventions in order for the names to still make sense to fanfic readers. 
> 
> Quick guide to characters and names:
> 
> Familia Pacori  
> Petrus Bennio Pacor (Peter Parker)  
> Raecius Laronius Pacor (Richard Laurence Parker)  
> Marcia Flavia (Mary Fitzpatrick Parker)  
> Bennio Tullius Pacor (Ben Parker)  
> Maia Rupillia (May Parker)
> 
> Familia Starcae  
> Antonius Ennius Starca (Tony Stark)  
> Papia Virginia (Pepper Potts)  
> Hardalio Antonius Starca (Harley Keener/Stark)  
> Iovus (Jarvis)  
> Horatius Hosidio (Harold “Happy” Hogan)
> 
> Other  
> Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni (Wade Wilson)  
> Eugenus Flavo Tautullian (Eugene “Flash” Thompson) 
> 
>  
> 
> Latin vocab:  
> Cursus honorum - the rigid political ladder of Rome that men climbed  
> Insula - apartment blocks made of small flats rented out  
> Stola - female equivalent of a toga, worn by married women.  
> Dominus - master  
> Petrulus - pet name of Petrus  
> Domus Pacori - Home of the Pacor Family  
> Armilla - Armbands awarded as military decoration  
> Medici - Army physician  
> Cinaedus - derogatory term for a man who allows himself to be anally penetrated.  
> Atrium - entrance hall

  
  


_...HE WHOSE WITNESS HAS FAILED TO APPEAR MAY SUMMON HIM BY LOUD CALLS BEFORE HIS HOUSE EVERY THIRD DAY... _

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia -  

 

**2 Aprilis**

 

It was the sixth hour on the day after the kalends of Aprilis, and Petrus Bennio Pacor was preparing himself to scream.

Sometimes, he had to wonder what gods he’d offended to deserve this. 

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia - 

  
  


As with the majority of humiliating events in Petrus’ recent life, it started with Antonius. 

“You want me to do what?” Petrus asked his patron and mentor, unsure if he’d heard the older man correctly. 

Antonius Ennius Starca stood before him, dressed in the full toga and sandals he’d donned to visit with the magistrate this morning; his business was clearly urgent if he’d not even had time to change his garments once he’d returned home. 

“I need you to go to the house of Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni, and scream outside it for say, oh, about an hour.”

Hearing the request again did nothing to further Petrus’ understanding. He set down the stylus and wax tablet he’d been holding, and turned fully in his seat to face Antonius. 

“Why do you want me to scream outside a man’s house?” he sought clarification. “And who is this Vado?”

Antonius let out an impatient sigh; as a high ranking member of the senate, he was not usually a man who needed to repeat himself. 

“Vado was due before the magistrate this morning to act as witness; he did not appear,” Antonius explained. 

Petrus gave a short nod. Law in Rome was sacrosanct, and spurning the duties of a witness had consequences. Antonius was well within his right to summon Vado before the magistrate.

It was just the method that Petrus wished was different. 

“Isn’t the implication that  _ you _ should be the one to summon your witness?” 

One dark look was enough to make clear what Antonius thought of that suggestion. “Whatever you’re doing -” he waved his hands vaguely in the direction of Petrus’ writing, “- can wait.”

Petrus tried not to feel slighted, but couldn’t exactly argue the point; he’d long since become bored of reading over a book on Cicero’s speeches, and moved on to doodling. He tried to surreptitiously tuck the tablet under the folds of his toga. 

“What’s the trial for?” he asked instead. 

Antonius grimaced. “It’s that Jupiter-damned Orissus again. He claims this Vado is attempting to extort money from him with some false accusations of debt - and was somewhat rough-handed when he came to collect.”

Petrus winced. “Are the debts real?” 

Antonius gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s what we’re attempting to determine. Let’s just say that the location Orissus was found in is not one he’d like his peers - and wife - to hear about, and will do anything to clear his name.”

“Including call upon his patron,” Petrus surmised and rolled his eyes. Sometimes being wealthy and well-known had its downfalls; patronage was a two-way relationship, and benefits came hand in hand with disadvantages. “Why did you allow yourself to get involved?”

“Eh,” Antonius grimaced. “I figured if this Vado was willing to testify and reveal the name of his employer, then Orissus would be disgraced, and I might finally be able to rid myself of the small-cocked worm.”

Antonius’ eyes showed more glee than Petrus thought the occasion warranted, but then again, he didn’t have to deal with Orissus on a regular basis. 

“And this is the best way to do it?” he asked dubiously. 

“Unfortunately.” Antonius let out a gusty sigh as he took a seat beside Petrus. Turning to face him, he clapped a hand on Petrus’ shoulder. 

“Petrus… you know I don’t ask you for things unless I really need them,” he said seriously. 

Petrus rolled his eyes. “We  _ both _ know that’s not true.” 

He had a vivid memory of scouring the markets for a very specifically sized potato all so Antonius could win a drunken bet.

A hint of a smile curled the older man’s lips. “Fair. But this  _ is  _ important.”

“And no one else can go?” Petrus made a last attempt to forestall his fate. “Iovus? Or Hosidio?”

“Perhaps, but I’m asking  _ you _ ,” Antonius countered. “I’m relying on you.”

Petrus’ nose crinkled. “You know I hate when you do that.” 

Honour and gratitude for everything that Antonius had done for him these last years were powerful motivators, and there was no chance of him refusing the man’s request now. 

“It’s why I only save it for special occasions,” Antonius jested, but despite the lightness of his words, his eyes were full of affection and understanding. 

“All right,” Petrus gave in. “Tell me where he lives.”

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia -  

 

Antonius’ villa lay on the outskirts of Rome south of the Celian Hill, where many of the richer citizens chose to build their homes away from the crowds and uncleanliness of the city proper. The address Antonius had given him was right in the centre of the city, which meant a fair distance to walk, but Petrus was used to making the journey most days, and set off briskly along the Via Campana into the city.

Although still early in the day, already the air was becoming warm, the sun beating down overhead and shining brightly on the walls of the neighbouring buildings and the cobblestones. He was glad he’d discarded his toga in favour of a plain tunic; for all they were the status of manhood in Rome, they were rather unwieldy, and not at all suitable for moving in a hurry. 

The streets themselves were busy: at this time of day, the city officials and businessmen were making their stately way to the forums at the head of their retinues, their togas a white blaze against the drab browns and greys of the plebeians who gave them a wide berth. 

Soon, Petrus passed under the Aqua Appia, and reached the Colosseum, where he left the main road and started along the smaller streets which marked the less wealthy part of Rome. Here, the streets were narrower, dirtier; the buildings were taller and mismatched, connected by ropes of hanging washing. There were market stalls scattered around, selling everything from food to clothes to pottery. 

Most noticeable were the people. They were everywhere - shuffling along the streets on business, sitting outside buildings, leaning out of windows and doors to hold shouted conversations with those in the buildings opposite. Petrus liked people, liked observing them, from the highest of nobility, to the poorest wretch begging on a street corner. 

He should have felt out of place here, but he didn’t. 

When he’d first come to Rome to the care of his uncle Bennio Tullius Pacor it had been overwhelming. He’d struggled with the crowds and the sheer size of the city, with its people and rules, with finding his place. 

Now he called Rome home - all of it; now Rome was his lifeblood.  

It took some searching to find the particular  _ insula _ that Vado lived in. It was a thin five floor apartment block at the end of a crooked alleyway, tucked behind a sprawling bakery whose delicious scents wafted through the air, just about covering the other more unpleasant smells of sewage underfoot. 

To Petrus’ relief, the small alley was devoid of people, but it was likely not going to last long. Any kind of commotion was bound to attract curious onlookers. 

Once more he inwardly cursed Antonius’ decision to send him. Surely he could have done  _ something _ else for the man?

He dithered in the shade of the building opposite for several long moments, working himself up to the task. He wasn’t a coward, or at the very least he didn’t view himself as one; he just… wasn’t all that fond of calling unwanted attention to himself. 

He wondered for a brief moment if he could just wait a while, then return to the house and tell Antonius he’d done as he’d asked - but he knew almost immediately it wouldn’t work. Antonius would find out. Petrus didn’t know how, but he  _ would _ . And then he’d tell his aunt Maia.

Weighing up humiliation in front of strangers or his aunt’s disappointment, Petrus gave a small sigh, knowing which one he’d prefer. 

His first attempt to call Vado’s name came out more like a strangled croak, and he felt his ears immediately turn red - glad no one was there to witness it. He cleared his throat, licked his lips, and tried again.

“ _ Vado! Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni!” _

He waited several moments, but no one appeared, and he wondered if he could even be heard in the apartments over the general noise of the main street. 

Cupping his hands around his mouth this time, he let his voice ring around the alleyway, drawing out the sounds. 

“Vaaaaa-doooooo! Vaaaaaaa-dooooooo!”

A woman exited from a small doorway opposite, gave him a curious glance, then continued on her way. 

After a quarter of an hour, Petrus began to wonder if the man was even at home. 

After a third, he started to question if he’d got the right address, and checked the slip of parchment he’d been given. 

As expected, he’d begun to attract attention from passersby and the neighbours. 

An old man had gone so far as to bring out a stool so he could sit outside his front door to watch, and Petrus turned to him.

“Does this Vado even live here?” he asked in agitation. 

“‘e came in las’ night,” the old man confirmed, “haven’t seen him leave.”

Petrus’ annoyance began to rise - at Antonius, at Vado, at the whole sorry situation he found himself in. 

He stomped over to the front door of Vado’s house, and began to bang on it with a clenched fist. 

“ _ Vado!  _ I know you’re in there! _ ” _ he shouted, and delivered a series of particularly heavy knocks on the wood - only to yelp as a splinter pricked one of his knuckles. 

He stepped away and rubbed at his hand, abandoning that particular mode of summons. Glancing around him, his eyes lit up when he saw half a rotten apple core discarded along the gutter. Without thinking too deeply about it, he picked up, took aim, and threw it at the closest window above the door. 

Of course, it was that exact moment that his summons was finally answered: the shutters of the window were thrown open and a man peered out, and Petrus could only watch in horrified dismay as the rotten apple made contact with the head of one apparent Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni. 

“Juno’s hairy cunt!” Vado cursed loudly, rubbing against his forehead and glaring over his shoulder at the offending projectile. 

The moment of distraction allowed Petrus his first proper look at Vado.

The man’s nudity was a surprise, the edge of the window just about concealing his genitals, but leaving his upper body in full view. Petrus could suddenly understand how Orissus may have been “rough-handled”, for the man was as tall as any gladiator Petrus had seen, with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest, the muscles of his arms and legs bulging as he peered out of the window. 

And then there were the scars...

Gnarls of white and red - puckered dips and raised welts - twisted and interwove across every part of his body, and Petrus could hardly make sense of them from this distance, let alone begin to imagine what might have caused them. 

“Oi!” The irate voice brought his attention back to Vado’s face; the man was glowering down at him menacingly, his brows drawn down over startlingly blue eyes. “What’s your deal?”

Petrus suddenly came back to himself, his own annoyance from earlier dissolving into embarrassment. “Are you Vado Vinstinian Vilsoni?” he asked to cover up his awkwardness. 

The man raised his brow, and made a great show of looking up and down his own body, then over each of his shoulders as if checking for someone behind him. “I guess I must be,” he drawled. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m here on behalf of Antonius Ennius Starca,” Petrus explained, squaring his shoulders to try and appear more official. He had a young face, and wasn’t as tall as some men, which meant he usually had to try harder than most to be taken seriously. 

As if that was even possible, standing as he was in the street shouting up through a window to a naked man.

Vado leant his forearms against the window ledge, cupping his chin in one hand. “Didn’t ask for your master, sweetling; I asked who you were.”

“Oh,” Petrus uttered, nonplussed by Vado’s sudden change in mood. Vado’s anger had been justifiable considering Petrus had just thrown an apple in his face, albeit accidentally; the sudden lack of it combined with the endearment was… unexpected. His request was reasonable, however, and Petrus was keen to keep the conversation on topic. “Petrus Bennio Pacor, ward of Antonius,” he introduced himself. “He summons you before the magistrate in the matter of Orissus’ debts. You were meant to be there this morning.”

“Well, Petrus, can’t say as how I remember much of that night,” Vado dismissed, giving his chin a scratch. “What I  _ can _ say is that there ain’t a chance in Hades I’m showing up at some magistrate’s house at the arse crack of day.”

“But… there’s a trial,” Petrus repeated, the part of him that had grown up on Rome’s laws and rules baffled at such blatant disregard of the very same. 

Vado shrugged easily. “Ain’t nothing rewarding in sitting around with stuffy men talking at each other.” He ran his eyes over Petrus. “Now, if  _ you _ wanted to extend an invite…”

Petrus gaped, a flush creeping up over his cheeks; down the street, the old man on the stool cackled. 

“I’m not a slave!” he protested vehemently, for clearly the man must have mistaken him as one to make such a proposal. 

To his amazement, Vado showed no sign of remorse. “No harm in asking.” He straightened away from the window ledge, giving a large yawn. “Now, I was out late last night, and I need all the beauty sleep I can get. Think it’s time for you to scurry off, darling, unless you want to join me…..” he let the last words trail away in clear invitation.

Petrus was too stunned to reply. 

Vado let out a sigh full of disappointment. “Suit yourself,” he said, and pulled the shutters closed once more. 

_ That _ had Petrus reacting. “Hey! No! Wait, you can’t just ignore me like that!” he called out. 

He moved forward for another round of pounding on the door, even though he knew it was no use: Vado had made his opinion of his witness duties clear. 

“Best be off, lad,” the old man told him, not unkindly. “‘E’s as stubborn as a mule. Good to ‘ave around in a pickle though,” he said the last part almost to himself. 

It was Petrus’ turn to sigh. 

He wasn’t looking forward to telling Antonius he’d failed.

 

\- De Testis Absentia -

 

“Well?” 

Petrus had barely stepped foot in the house before Antonius appeared like a spectre from the back rooms. Another man may have thought he’d been waiting specifically for Petrus to return, but Antonius was far too dignified and busy a man for that. He’d always had this uncanny ability to know the moment someone entered his home - that, or Iovus informed him. 

“He was there. He heard me. He ignored me,” Petrus summarised his morning. He was annoyed, tired and famished, and his only thought was to go retrieve some food from the kitchen, but Antonius wasn’t content with those scant details. 

“Did you shout loud enough?” he queried. 

“Yes.”

“Are you  _ sure _ ?”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Petrus let some of his frustration show. “It was humiliating.”

Antonius just hummed in response. “A stubborn one, eh?” he muttered to himself, fingers rubbing his chin. “You’ll just have to go again.”

Petrus could only stare. Once had been bad enough, but having to go - “ _ Again _ ?” he asked incredulously. 

Antonius shrugged. “The law says I can shout, so shout I will.”

“But  _ I’m _ the one shouting,” Petrus objected. 

“Details,” the patriarch dismissed. 

Petrus narrowed his eyes as he considered the air of challenge his mentor seemed to exude. There was only one person who riled him up, and it was certainly not Vado…

“Who’s the magistrate in charge of the case?” he asked suspiciously, a niggling thought dawning. 

Antonius became suddenly very interested in the leaves of a nearby plant. “Rogelius,” he answered at last.  

“I knew it!” Petrus exclaimed. Antonius’ clashes with the magistrate Stephanus Gratian Rogelius were well known, and it seemed Vado just happened to have become an unwitting pawn in their latest battle of wills. 

“Two days,” Antonius declared, ignoring Petrus’ knowing look. “Then you’re going again.”

His smile disappeared at once. 

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia - 

 

Most days, Petrus was invited to dine with Antonius; dinners in his household were luxurious affairs - comfortable sofas and lavish treats prepared by the best of his cooks, his slaves on hand to keep every glass topped with wine, others playing gentle music for ambience. The head of the Starca family was a busy and popular man, and dinners were just as much about socialising and making connections as eating.

Tonight, to his relief, it was just close company. 

Petrus adjusted his toga from his reclining position on one couch; it was expected, but he still found it somewhat awkward to eat in a sideways position. Maia Rupillia, his aunt, lay beside him, her sandalled feet tucked against his side, one bare arm leaning against the armrest and holding her goblet. The warmth of the room gave her olive cheeks a rosy glow, and the lamps gleamed off her dark hair and gold jewellery. 

Opposite them, Antonius lounged on another sofa, his wife Papia Virginia beside him, her red-stained curls setting off her pale skin and the blue of her  _ stola. _

“Prima’s outdone herself with the fish tonight,” she told them as she directed a slave to serve the main meal.  

“Doesn’t she always?” Maia teased. 

After his uncle’s sudden illness and death just before Petrus’ sixteenth birthday, it was Maia’s friendship with Papia which had saved their small family. Shaken by the loss, Maia had found comfort in her close friend, and it was through her that Petrus had come into Antonius’ circle and under his patronage. 

He had a lot to admire and be grateful to her for. 

“I hear you had something of an adventure today?” Maia commented as she dipped a bite-size piece of bread into a dish of oil and spices. 

Petrus scowled at the reminder, stabbing a knife into the fish on his plate. “It was awful,” he complained, “and Antonius wants me to do it again!”

Antonius was unmoved by his accusatory stare, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “As always, the blame falls on me.”

“Hush,” Papia scolded her husband. 

“What was so terrible about it?” Maia asked Petrus, though there was a tinge of amusement to her tone. 

Petrus gaped at her. “You don’t think standing outside someone’s house and shouting for them for almost a half-hour while everyone around is watching you is terrible?”

Maia gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I see it quite often.”

“‘See’ being the operative word,” Petrus groused. “Not ‘do’.”

“We’re all agreed,” Antonius interjected. “It was deeply unpleasant and you don’t know how you’re going to continue in life. You’re  _ still _ going again.” 

Petrus was interrupted before he could complain further. 

“Papa! Mama!” a young voice called from the entrance to the dining room, followed by a quick rush of feet. 

Antonius just had enough time to hand his goblet over to Papia before he had an armful of the young boy. 

“Hardalio Antonius Starca! Why aren’t you in bed?” Antonius scolded his son, swinging his legs down from the sofa so he could better support the wriggling seven year old in his lap. 

“Bed is boring!” 

“I’m sorry,  _ domine _ .” Iovus, Antonius’ freedman appeared in the doorway. “It seems young master Hardalio informed his nurse that he wished for a glass of milk, then took the opportunity to sneak out of bed.”

Antonius raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Hardalio gave him a look of feigned innocence. “I learned from the best?”

Antonius winked. “Attaboy.”

“Don’t encourage him. Hardalio, time to go back,” Papia rose from her couch. “Excuse me.”

“But mama…”

While their hosts were distracted arguing with their young son, Maia took the opportunity to dig her toe into Petrus’ thigh. “What was this Vado like?”

Petrus paused as he thought about the man he’d been sent to summon, and how he’d describe him. “Irreverent,” was his first opinion. “He didn’t seem to care about the hearing or his obligations as witness.”

“Not every citizen can be as upstanding and dutiful as you,” Maia pointed out. “It’s one of your many virtues.”

Petrus could feel warmth blossom in his chest at her comment, a mix of pleasure and pride. 

As for virtues… He couldn’t help a slight blush colouring his cheeks as he added, “He kept making sexual remarks about me.”

Maia laughed loudly and leaned over to hook her bare arm around his shoulders, planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “My  _ Petrulus _ , you’re so short and small-boned it’s no wonder he got confused.”

Petrus endured her manhandling with well-accustomed patience, but grimaced at her words; it wasn’t exactly the first time he’d been mistaken for a catamite. “Next time I’ll wear my toga,” he told her. 

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Maia patted his cheek, and withdraw back to her side of the couch to retrieve her drink. “Was he handsome at the least?”

Petrus hesitated and his expression became sombre. “He had scars all over his body. Whatever injuries he must have sustained to cause that would have been horrific,” he said with sympathy. 

“Perhaps not handsome,” Maia murmured, “but he must be a brave man.” 

Petrus sighed gustily and threw himself back against the cushions, no longer in the mood to finish his meal. 

“I just wish he’d attend court,” he prayed mournfully.   
  


\- De Testis Absentia - 

  
  


**5 Aprilis**

 

In light of the disaster of his first attempt, Petrus had spent some time the evening prior thinking about his options for his next visit to Vado.

It would appear the man was very much not a morning person, despite it being the time of day most business in Rome was conducted; Petrus had to accept this was clearly not Vado’s priority. For that reason he figured he might have better luck going somewhat later in the day, when the man was more likely to be awake - and therefore more receptive to his entreaties. 

Luckily Antonius had been happy to leave it up to him and sent him off with no more than a distracted wave. 

So it was near midday that Petrus made his way back down to the street where Vado lived. 

The same old man from his previous visit was settled once more on his stool, this time accompanied by a mangy looking dog at his feet. Petrus gave him a stilted smile; the man returned it with a rather gap-toothed grin. 

Trying to ignore his small audience, Petrus knocked on the front door as loudly as he could. 

“Vado?” he called. 

To his surprise, it only took a moment for his call to be answered. The same shutters he’d pelted with an apple before swung open, and Vado peered down. 

“You came!” He smiled, a strange sort of delight in his voice. “Let yourself in - I’m on the first floor. Obviously.”

This wasn’t at all what Petrus had planned for. He’d practised a speech the whole way here, and now the rehearsed lines were escaping him. 

“Um….” 

Vado’s enthusiasm dimmed somewhat. “Too soon? I guess we can talk outside…”

While Petrus had some misgivings about entering the home of a virtual stranger whose moral codes did not quite match his own, the idea of staying outside to talk appealed even less. If Vado was willing to invite him in, perhaps he was more willing to discussing the trial?

“No, it’s fine,” Petrus hurried to reassure him, reaching out for the ring handle of the front door. 

He stepped inside the building, finding the layout to be like most  _ insula _ in Rome: the main door connected to a small communal cooking area which would be shared by all the inhabitants in the block; a room to the back served as communal latrines, while wooden stairs to the right led up to the individual apartments. It was simple and plain, but the building seemed intact, which was more than could be said about many of the tenement buildings in Rome, which were only as well-built as their landlord was willing to fund. He’d lived in the city long enough to hear the stories of fires and fallen buildings and the risks rich owners took just to make some extra money from the poorer citizens who lived in them. 

His unwieldy toga made the climb up the stairs somewhat difficult, and he immediately regretted his decision to wear it, cursing the pride of the wealthy who liked to show it off with voluminous folds of cloth. 

At the top, an open door guided Petrus to Vado. 

The two room apartments usually housed whole families, divided into living and sleeping areas; apartments on lower floors were also considerably larger and more expensive than those higher. For all that, Vado’s home was uncharacteristically… empty. 

In the back room, a sleeping pallet took up the farthest wall, a mess of blankets and sheets on top of straw; two piles of clothes were heaped against the opposite wall. Under the single window in the main living area was a wooden table, a bench tucked underneath. Hooks nailed into the wooden beams held everything from mugs to cloths to waterskins, and an assorted mix of pots and jars were piled up to one side. 

Vado himself was at the table, pouring watered-wine into mismatched drinking cups. He glanced over his shoulder as Petrus entered, a friendly smile on his face. “Welcome,” he greeted. 

Petrus had been aware that Vado was a large man from his previous visit, but there was a considerable difference between seeing him through an open window, and standing before him now; he towered over Petrus by several feet, his arms and legs twice the size of his own, his torso straining out from beneath the practical dark brown tunic he - thankfully this time - wore. Petrus had to tilt his neck a fair way to meet his eyes.

He swallowed, suddenly uneasy; he would be hard-pressed to defend himself if Vado decided to attack him physically - and he was here alone, without an escort…

As if sensing his anxiety, Vado gave him a friendly smile, stretching the scars on his face. “No need to be scared of ol’ Vado,” he said, “especially a cute thing like you.”

Petrus’ flushed. “I’m not scared,” he argued. 

“‘Course not.” Vado’s tone was almost indulgent.

“Do you live alone?” he changed subject to cover his sudden awkwardness. 

“Just me here,” Vado confirmed. 

“Well, thank you for having me,” Petrus fell back into ingrained politeness.

Vado’s smile widened into a grin. “Oh! Manners! Yes!” 

He drew out the bench from under the table, and indicated Petrus should sit. He, meanwhile, hurried into the other room and Petrus saw him shove a pile of clothing to reveal a small stool beneath, which he brought over to use himself. It creaked alarmingly under his considerable bulk, and he had to bring his knees up to his chest to even sit down. 

“I don’t have much, nothing as fancy as you’re probably used to, but I have wine, and maybe something to eat….or I could go out to get something…” 

It took Petrus a few seconds to realise Vado was actually talking to him, as opposed to just muttering to himself, and he quickly stopped that train of thought. “Oh, no, whatever you have is perfect, thank you. I don’t need anything else.”

Vado brightened. “Then please, help yourself.”

He was looking at him so expectantly that Petrus felt obliged to take one of the drinking cups, and try the smallest sip he could. He was relieved to find it wasn’t as sour as he’d feared - certainly a finer wine than he’d expected - and took a proper drink from the cup. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back, thought I’d half dreamed you up the other day - except I don’t know why I’d dream of having a rotten apple thrown in my face, so I kind of guessed it might have been real? Then I asked Stanius - that’s the old man who likes to sit outside, he’s kind of a friend - and he said he’d definitely seen you come by…. And now you’re here again!”

Petrus could only sit in bemused silence and listen to Vado’s cheerful prattling; it was....nothing like he’d expected. Vado had been so unreasonable before, but now he was open and friendly, and they were having a conversation…

“Pity about the toga…” Vado continued, eyes running up and down Petrus’ form. “You have such pretty legs, it’s a right shame to cover them up.”

Petrus choked on the sip he’d taken, and had to swallow it with effort lest he spit on said toga. Why had he forgotten about Vado’s overfamiliarity? 

Eager to distract Vado from any more comments of  _ that _ kind, Petrus set aside his drink and got down to business. 

“As glad as I am to see you again too, I’m here about the trial,” he reminded Vado. “Will you attend the magistrate?”

Vado looked blankly at him for a few seconds, as if trying to remember what Petrus was referring to, before he scrunched up his nose. “Oh. That. It’s gonna be a no...I’m pretty busy, so…” He shrugged his large shoulders. 

Petrus persisted doggedly. “Orissus is denying the charges of debt against him,” he started to explain. “If you attended, you’d be able to tell the truth.”

“Why would I care about that?”  

The question seemed genuine, and Petrus frowned. “Weren’t you trying to collect the debt from him when you assaulted him?”

“Well, sure, but that’s my job,” Vado answered lightly, before letting out a low laugh. “And that? That wasn’t assault, sweetheart; that was just a reminder.” 

The casual attitude to violence didn’t sit well with Petrus. “Do you  _ enjoy _ going round Rome, beating men for money?”

The larger man scratched idly at his arm, his attention caught by something outside the window. “It pays well,” he replied absently.

“That’s what matters to you?  _ Money _ ? What about honour?” Incredulity coloured Petrus’ words. 

Vado’s eyes widened, as if he were caught by surprise at Petrus’ intensity of feeling. “I’ve done all the ‘honour’ and ‘duty’ and ‘serve Rome’ as a soldier; didn’t work so well for me.” He made a dismissive gesture. 

“Then you should understand!” Petrus cried out. He hadn’t known of Vado’s military history, but he should have realised - his physicality, his wounds, it explained so much. “You fought for Rome! This is just another part of it!”

Scarred lips twisted, and Vado’s eyes darkened somewhat. “There’s only so much one can do for the sake of ‘honour,’” he said heavily. “Eventually you’ll learn there comes a time where you have to put yourself first.”

It went against everything Petrus believed in. 

He rose stiffly to his feet, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh. “My father fought and died for Rome and his legion; my uncle, too, was a man of patience and generosity, and served as Tribune of the Plebs until he died. I can only hope to live up to their memories, and be a man of whom they can be proud - a man of honour.”

Even Antonius, who sometimes mocked and skirted the rules, in everything that mattered, was always driven by his love of family and of Rome.

Vado looked unhappy. “Ah, kid…” he began, but there was nothing he could say which Petrus wished to hear.  

“An honorable man would understand his duty. An honorable man would respect and protect the laws of this city - the laws that built an Empire, an Empire which you would be lucky enough to serve. An honorable man would not take work such as yours.” Petrus’ voice shook from restrained emotion, and his fists clenched at his side. 

Vado accepted it in silence. 

“You have no honour,” Petrus asserted at last, “and the gods will strike you down for it.”

He strode out the small apartment and out of the building, ignoring Vado’s calls behind him. 

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia -

 

The  _ domus Pacori  _ was a small villa on the lower slopes of the Aventine. It had been his aunt and uncle’s home since marriage, and was now Petrus’, as head of the Pacor family, though without a wife of his own, Maia still saw to the running of the place. It wasn’t a particularly large building, nor was it as lavishly decorated as some, but it was comfortable, and it was home. 

Petrus had retreated there straight from Vado’s, unable to face Antonius so soon. He’d have to report to him eventually, but not yet. 

If he thought his first visit had been humiliating, he couldn’t even find the words to describe the second. 

What even was it about Vado that had so incensed him? The dismissive talk of the soldiers of Rome? The indifference to the concept of honour?

It hadn’t been personal, and yet he had taken it as such. 

Through all the misfortunes and changes of circumstance Petrus had endured in his short life, his honour and his belief in Rome had remained constant. It had given his parents pride, and himself. 

It made it difficult to understand Vado’s position, but that was another failing on his own part, not Vado’s. He should have stayed, and tried to understand. He should have held his composure, and remembered he had a task to do, and not let emotions get the better of him. 

And he shouldn’t have said those things. 

He avoided Maia that evening, and Antonius’ summons the next day, but he couldn’t put off his responsibilities forever, so the following morning he made his way to Antonius’ villa. He and Antonius had disagreements every now and then, but Petrus had never actively avoided him before. He wasn’t sure how the man would react. 

“He’s in his study,” Hosidio informed him, and gave him an encouraging smile as he passed. 

He hesitated in the doorway, uncertain and tongue-tied; inside, Antonius paced the room while dictating a letter to Iovus, but paused as he noticed Petrus’ presence. He gave Petrus a quick once over, and there was a touch of relief to his expression, as if he’d worried for him, but was now satisfied to find him unharmed. 

“I’m sorry,” Petrus blurted out. 

“As long as you’re well,” Antonius replied, followed by a slight frown. “You are, aren’t you? Hosidio told me you were when you got back from that Vilsoni.” His eyes narrowed. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No, of course not,” Petrus immediately defended. There was no chance he’d allow Antonius to think the worst of Vado, not when the current situation was his fault. “I… miscalculated,” he confessed. “But I’m going to correct it.”

He held Antonius’ gaze for several long moments. 

“Very well then,” Antonius accepted, and that was that.  

\- De Testis Absentia -  

 

**8 Aprilis**

 

When Petrus returned to Vado two days later, he had not expected to find the very man himself outside his apartment, and he stopped short as he tried to make sense of it. The man was sitting on the ground with his back to the wall, right in the heat of the sun - and Petrus could already see patches of sunburned skin on the crown of his bald head.

“Vado?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if he were drunk or injured, but as soon as he spoke, Vado’s head jerked up, and he lifted a hand to shade his eyes. 

“You came!” he said, and he sounded so relieved that Petrus was taken aback. 

“How long have you been out here?” he asked, and glanced around the alley. For once, the nosy old man was nowhere in sight, typical, the one time he may have proved useful.

“Um… I guess since sun-up?” Vado rubbed a hand at his eyes. “I didn’t know what time you’d come, or  _ if _ you’d even come, and I didn’t want to chance missing you…” 

Petrus’ guilt made an immediate resurgence. 

“I’m here now,” he said quietly. “You need to get out of the sun. Shall we go in?”

Vado nodded happily, and led the way inside to his apartment. He offered Petrus the bench once again, but Petrus wouldn’t be comfortable until he’d admitted his mistake. 

“I need to apologise for the way I spoke to you at my last visit,” he began seriously, shoulders tense and hands clasped behind his back. “It was uncalled for, and unnecessary, and I hope you’re able to forgive me.”

“What?” Vado’s expression was touchingly open in his puzzlement. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was the one who made you get all angry and run away.”

“I had no right to be angry -” Petrus tried again, but a shake of the larger man’s head stopped him. 

“Anger doesn’t always make sense,” Vado told him firmly. He leant against the wall near the window, his fingers running along the sill, his gaze turned inwards. “Most emotions don’t, if you think about it… like why does rain make one person happy, but another sad? And you can laugh about something once, and then not find it funny any more the next day… They just come and go in your head, and…” He paused, blinked, and looked at Petrus again. “What was I saying?”

“I’m not sure,” Petrus murmured, oddly charmed. Vado: ex-soldier, debt-collector, and poet. 

He wasn’t wrong, though. 

“Eh, never mind me. The gist of it is I forget sometimes that not everyone feels the same way, so I shouldn’t have dismissed your sense of honour, just because it doesn’t matter so much to me,” Vado finished in a rush, as if eager to get his words out. “Friends again?”

Petrus considered the large hand held out to him. He’d come prepared to apologise, to plead forgiveness, to offer recompense for any offence he’d caused - could it really be this easy?

It was an odd choice of words for what they were, as Petrus would not have thought to describe their relationship as anything like “friendship,” but perhaps it was more to do with what Vado hoped they would be. 

And Petrus found he wanted it too. 

“Friends,” he agreed, accepting Vado’s hand; the texture of the skin was strange, but not unpleasant, and Vado’s hand was comfortably warm. 

Petrus let go, and finally took a seat. Vado seemed content to remain by the window; the small stool probably wasn’t that comfortable. He indicated Vado’s other hand, and the small woven sack he held. “What have you got there?”

“Oh! It’s for you.” Vado handed it over with unbridled enthusiasm, urging him to look inside with a waggle of his non-existent eyebrows. 

Bemused, Petrus glanced inside to find - “Apples?” he laughed. 

“You seemed to favour them the first time you came, so I thought you might like some more.” He gave the shutters at the window a pointed glance. 

Smiling, Petrus drew out two of the fruits. “One each?”

It was strangely companionable to sit with Vado and eat his apple. Petrus still regretted his thoughtless words from before, but knowing no harm had come from them was reassuring. It also made him consider the man, who was so willing to take the blame upon himself; there were not many Petrus had come across who would do that. 

He cleared his throat. “You said you were a soldier?”  He asked it with a bit of hesitation, as it was part of the conversation which had caused such disagreement days before, but he was too curious not to question Vado further. 

“Third Cohort of the II Italica,” Vado was quick to recite, a habit of long past. “Had some good times. Had some not so good times.” He sighed gustily. “Got an honour from it though…”

That startled Petrus, though he couldn’t say why. “You were given an honour?” 

“Oh, you want to see? I’m sure I kept it somewhere.” Vado stepped away from the window and into the other room; Petrus saw him rummaging through several piles of clothes, before he returned triumphantly with his find, dropping it into Petrus’ lap. 

The cloth pouch came open to reveal a pair of  _ armillae _ , the armbands made of flattened bronze the width of two fingers, detailed with a simple eagle and inscribed with Vado’s initials and his legion. They were only awarded to soldiers of Rome who had shown exceptional conduct or acts of gallantry. 

Petrus’ touch was tentative as he traced Vado’s name. He was almost afraid to ask, “What happened?” 

“What normally happens,” Vado dismissed. “A battle, a friend in danger, and someone willing to do something stupid… maybe a little brave, but mostly stupid. Was medically discharged afterwards.”

A soldier would only have been discharged from his legion if the  _ medici _ believed he had no chance of recovery. That Vado was still alive after such wounds showed impressive strength of character; Petrus had thought as much before, but this emphasised it.

“Did your friend live?”

“Lost an arm and an eye, but he lived,” Vado confirmed. “He’s living on some plot of land somewhere, chasing after slave girls I’ll bet. I should visit him at some point.”

There was something hard in Petrus’ throat making it difficult to swallow. He’d been so wrong about Vado’s sense of honour - so, so wrong. He was a simple man, but one of loyalty, and bravery, and honesty. 

“Thank you for showing me,” he said, carefully wrapping the bands once more, and setting them gently on the table. “I should go now.”

“Oh,” Vado let out a sound of disappointment. “If you must.” 

He accompanied him down to the front door, where he leaned against the door jamb. 

“Petrus…”

Petrus turned back from where he’d just stepped out of the building. He was so used to terms of endearment from Vado that hearing his actual name felt odd. “Yes?”

“Are you not going to ask about the trial?” 

Petrus let out a huff of laughter. He’d been so determined to set them back on good terms that he hadn’t once thought about the real reason for these visits. 

“No, not today,” he decided, and started his walk back down the alley. As he reached the end, he heard Vado call to him once more. 

“Petrus, I’m glad you didn’t wear the toga today.”

“See you in three days!” Petrus called back. 

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia - 

**9 Aprilis - 22 Aprilis**

 

Petrus continued to visit with Vado every third day.

To begin with, they remained in Vado’s apartment, exchanging stories of themselves, or idle conversation about Rome and the people they knew. 

Petrus learned that Vado had a quick wit, and a fondness for foreign spices, something he missed from his time in the legions. He learned that Vado considered his closest friend to be a prostitute, and indeed, many of the men whose debts he was employed to collect were clients of the brothel. 

Petrus never thought he’d learn so much about the shady dealings of the politicians’ whose homes he attended, whose wives he met and daughters he was sometimes encouraged to court. 

In return, Petrus told him of his life on the farm his father had purchased with his military earnings, before he’d died in battle; the short time afterwards when it had been just his mother and he, until a storm ravaged the farm and took her from him too.  He told him of Bennio and Maia, who’d given him love and encouragement and treated him like the child they had never had. 

He spoke of the feeling of not quite fitting in with his peers, of never having a particular friend to call his own. 

“You have  _ me _ now,” Vado said to that, and Petrus realised it was true, that somewhere along the way, their promise of friendship had become genuine. He came to see Vado because he was interesting, because he enjoyed his company. 

It was funny, but in between his visits, he almost forgot his purpose, and when Antonius questioned his progress, he was so startled that he could only respond with a feeble promise that he was close to convincing Vado to attend the court. He wasn’t sure if Antonius actually believed him, but seeing as he ended the conversation with a smirk and a mutter of Rogelius’ name, Petrus didn’t think he was that keen to press the issue. 

Still, he felt obliged to broach the topic with Vado again. 

“Will you go to the trial?”

“No.” Vado’s expression and tone were just shy of sulkiness, and he refused to meet Petrus’ eyes. 

Petrus nudged him gently. “Why not? It would be over quickly enough.”

“That’s the problem, darling...if I go, then you have no more reason to come.” 

He looked so miserable, Petrus reached out to lay a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to him. “Vado...I don’t come because of the trial. I come because of  _ you _ .”

His expression brightened at once, but he was quick to add, “I’m still not going to go, just to make sure.”

Petrus could only laugh. 

He enjoyed those quiet times indoors, but there were some days when the sun were bright and the dim, heavy-odoured rooms became oppressive. Those days he persuaded Vado into walking with him. 

The first time Petrus suggested it, he showed reluctance, but not for the reason Petrus expected. 

“I’ve had time to get used to looking like an old man’s scrotum -” Vado said amicably.

“You do  _ not _ look like that!” Petrus spluttered in protest. 

“- I just thought  _ you _ might not want to be seen with me.” There was no accusation, just acceptance. 

“What? Vado, I’m not ashamed of you,” Petrus denied with some surprise. “Your skin does not define your worth as a person.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Vado replied, but for the rest of the day, a pleased smile curled his lips.  

On those days they walked through the city, past the temples and bath houses and theatres which filled the centre of Rome. Vado was a recognisable figure, and Petrus was surprised by how many people called to him in greeting, or called him over to share gossip - and through him, Petrus was included too. It reminded him of accompanying his uncle on his duties, but now it was to him they voiced some of their concerns.

He wasn’t in a position to help them now, but one day, he’d move up the ranks, and then he’d be able to make the changes they desperately needed. 

Although Vado was always happy to stop, he kept the conversations brief; when Petrus asked, he said their time together was for them.

After the apples, Vado would always give Petrus a small gift when he arrived - sometimes it was fruit, sometimes cooked meats and cheeses, other times a trinket he’d seen and picked up because it was pretty and he thought Petrus would like it. Petrus often thought those were for Vado’s benefit more than his own. 

“Why do I feel like I’m being bribed?” Petrus laughed after accepting a bottle of honeyed wine one afternoon. “It should be me offering you a bribe to answer the summons, don’t you think?”

Vado, sprawled across the grain-sacks he’d acquired and piled up against the wall for that exact reason, looked aghast. “Bribery? I can’t believe you would think I’d resort to a such a thing!” In a lower tone, Petrus could just about hear him mutter, “... if I thought it would work, then I might actually try it…” before he carried on at a normal volume, “I do it because it makes you smile, and I like seeing it, especially when it’s because of something I’ve done.”

Warmth flooded Petrus’ face, and he turned away to try and hide it. From their first meeting Vado had made comments about his appearance, but whereas before they’d had a lewd undertone and Petrus could dismiss them easily, these days there was something… different to the way he spoke, a softness to his expression whenever he looked at Petrus. He’d noticed it, and part of him understood, but he hadn’t been able to speak of it, until now. 

“Why do you say such things?” he found the courage to ask. 

Vado’s voice was careful as he asked, “Does it make you uncomfortable? I… don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. I’ll stop. Well, I’ll try to.”

Petrus quickly shook his head. “I… don’t want you to stop,” he admitted in a quiet voice, his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. “I just want to know… why.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure the larger man would answer. Vado picked at a loose string on the sack beside him, his lips pursed. He took a deep breath, and finally spoke. “Because you’re beautiful, and I like you, and I want to make you happy.”

Petrus chanced a look at Vado; there was such open vulnerability in his eyes, and such hope. There was none of his usual jesting. 

“Not just as a friend, though,” Petrus surmised. 

Vado gave a small shrug. “Friends can be lovers as well,” he pointed out. 

It left him conflicted. 

He’d read of romance and love in the poetry of Ovid and the verses of Catullus, but had never truly experienced it himself. His interactions with the young girls of his age were often awkward, and though he knew he was expected to marry, none had caught his interest or stirred him enough to consider it. His visits to the brothels Antonius had introduced him to were physically enjoyable, but nothing more than that. 

He felt affection for Vado, in a way that didn’t quite compare to how he felt for his family, or Antonius, or any others of his acquaintance. Was it the love the poets spoke of? Was it attraction?

But Vado was a man...and the political and social structures of the Roman elite were both complex and fickle.

“There are rules,” he said in a small voice. 

“Tch, the  _ rules. _ ” Vado rolled his eyes in derision. “A whole society which bases the standing of a man on whether he  _ fucks _ or  _ is fucked _ .”

Said like that, it seemed so trivial, but the weight of society’s expectations and taboos were a hard thing to overcome. 

“Vado, I  _ can’t _ …” Petrus said miserably. 

Vado’s eyes widened and he quickly rose from the sacks to come kneel at Petrus’ feet. Even then, their eyes were nearly at a level. Vado took one of Petrus’ hands in his own. 

“Sweetheart, of course  _ you _ can’t. Did you really think I’d ask you to do anything that would hurt you, or impugn that damnable honour of yours?” Vado squeezed on his hand.

His meaning became clear, and Petrus was immediately appalled. “I’m not going to be the one responsible for making you a - a  _ cinaedus _ .”

Vado sighed softly, but it was more resigned than annoyed. “It wouldn’t be the first time, darling, and for you, I’d do it as many times as you’d allow it.” He gave his hand a final squeeze, his thumb tracing a warm line along the inside of his palm. “Just think about it?”

And think about it, Petrus did. 

How could he begin something that may not affect his standing in society, but would certainly have a negative impact on Vado if it were discovered? He knew Vado had little sense of his own honour, or respect for it, but Petrus saw it; if Vado wouldn’t safeguard it himself, then he would have to. 

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia -

 

**23 Aprilis**

 

It was the day of the  _ Vinalia Urbana _ , the festival to celebrate the wine harvest, and the whole of Rome was in high spirits. The air was full of the scent of mint and myrtle, the herbs scattered across window sills and pathways, while roses were lovingly placed at the feet of statues all over the city.

Petrus, too, was in a merry mood. 

Normally Petrus would have joined Antonius and his family for celebrations, but Maia was with them, and when Vado had asked if he’d like to spend the day together, he’d not been able to refuse. 

Together they wandered the streets of Rome, their pace leisurely, their destination undecided. They stopped frequently to exchange greetings and blessings with other citizens: sometimes acquaintances, more often than not strangers just happy to praise the goddess of fertility on this day. 

And of course, they stopped for wine.

“Oh, little duckie, how much have you had?” Vado tutted. 

Petrus tried to untangle his toga from where it had caught on the edge of a wineseller’s stall. 

“Not that much,” he replied, though he had a feeling it was more than he was used to having, even during Antonius’ most exuberant gatherings. He felt light-headed, and his cheeks were warm, and every time he looked at Vado, he smiled so much that his face was beginning to ache. “Maybe a little much.”

Vado wasn’t unaffected himself, though Petrus supposed his size lessened the impact of the heady wine. Still, he was laughing more than usual at the silliest of things, and his eyes gleamed -

“Like stars,” Petrus mumbled. 

“What’s that?” 

“Your eyes are like stars,” Petrus repeated, sounding each word out so he could be understood, “so bright and beautiful. Sometimes I think about them when I’m alone at night...”

Vado was uncharacteristically brought to silence, so Petrus continued to share the wandering trail of his thoughts. 

“And you’re so tall…” Petrus leaned towards him to better compare their heights. Vado reached out to steady him, his large hands cupping his elbows. “I was scared at first, but now it makes me feel safe, like you could just pick me up and take me away from danger, or stand in front of me and stop anything coming at me.”

“I would, you know,” Vado’s voice came out hoarsely, his stare intense. 

“I know,” Petrus said softly, and it was hard to fight the urge to reach up and run his fingers over Vado’s rippled cheek. “I think about the other things you say, too…”

“Petrus…” Vado breathed out a soft sigh, turning his face into Petrus’ cupped hand, his eyes falling closed in something like bliss. 

“What is  _ this _ ?”

The loud and familiar voice jarred Petrus from the trance he’d fallen into. He turned in the direction of the speaker, and blinked owlishly as he took in the sight of Eugenus Flavo Tautillian, the son of Antonius’ client. The young man’s face was twisted unpleasantly as his gaze swept over them 

It took Petrus a long moment to fully realise the situation - the intimacy of his and Vado’s position - and he took an abrupt step back. 

The wine had dulled his thoughts, and he could think of nothing to say - nothing to diffuse the tense atmosphere that hung between them, to halt Eugenus’ realisation, and then it was too late. 

Eugenus’ lips curled into a sneer. “Never took you for a commoner’s fuck-boy, Pacor.”

The insult hit home with a dull sort of shock, but still Petrus couldn’t find a response. Vado did, though, and with a low roar he charged towards Eugenus. 

Instinct had Petrus reaching out - and he caught the back of Vado’s tunic in his hand, clenching his fingers tight. No matter what happened next, he just knew that he couldn’t allow Vado to attack Eugenus - thoughts of Vado being punished flashed through his mind, of being thrown into prison or the stocks, or worse. 

“Vado, don’t!” he cried, using all his might to cling onto the larger man. 

“That’s right, Pacor, call your dog to heel,” Eugenus spat, “Or should I be calling you the bitch?”

There were gasps as onlookers became aware of what was happening, and a bead of sweat trickled down Petrus’ spine. “Vado, please. Let’s leave,” he begged. 

“Petrus…” His muscles were still tense, but he was beginning to turn back to Petrus. 

And then all of a sudden, Petrus felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, and he looked behind him to find a grim-faced Antonius surveying the scene.

Petrus swallowed thickly and his fingers released their hold on Vado. “Antonius -”

“Hosidio, I think it’s best you take Petrus home,” Antonius addressed his freedman without a single look Petrus’ way. His tone was pleasant enough, but there was a hard edge there too. 

Hosidio stepped forward to stand beside Petrus, taking his arm in a gentle yet firm hold, trying to guide him away. 

“Petrus,” Vado said urgently, but Antonius was quick to cut him off. 

“You will stay,” he ordered, his tone countenancing no argument. “Hosidio.”

“No, Antonius,” Petrus tried again, but Hosidio’s hold was no longer gentle, and he forced him away from the crowd. As Petrus was led away, he could just hear Antonius turn his attention to Eugenus. 

“Tautullian’s son, is it not?” 

It was funny how quickly he sobered as worry took hold of him. His stomach roiled, and his mouth was dry, but as Hosidio led him at a rapid pace back to his villa, his thoughts cleared, and with them a surge of doubt and fear. 

He waited in his room, pacing to and fro as Hosidio kept watch; the man’s expression was apologetic, but resolved. 

More than an hour passed before approaching footsteps sounded, and Petrus froze in his spot - but it was Maia who appeared in his doorway, not Antonius. 

“Antonius said you’d taken ill,” she informed him with a small frown, coming forward and resting a hand on his forehead. “...You are a little warm. Was it the wine?”

Petrus gave a jerky nod. “Did he...say anything else?”

“Just to remain at home, and he will come visit tomorrow. And Hosidio, he said you’re to stay too.”

Her words brought Petrus little comfort. He used Antonius’ excuse of illness to miss dinner, and remained in his room. He heard Hosidio talking to Maia at various times through the evening, and when it became late, he settled himself on a couch on the other side of Petrus’ room. 

Petrus tried not to feel as if were being punished...or kept prisoner. Hosidio was pleasant enough company, but he knew the man was here to keep him at home, and that rankled. 

“What do you think’s going to happen?” he asked the freedman as he began to prepare for sleep. 

“I don’t know, kid. Just stay here like Antonius wants and let him sort things out. He’s good at that.”

Petrus couldn’t begin to guess what Antonius might consider “sorting things out”. The uncertainty kept him awake that night, and he gave serious consideration to ignoring Antonius’ orders and leaving the villa to seek out Vado. 

Only Hosidio’s shuffling and occasional mumble stopped him; he could imagine the embarrassment of a physical scuffle - which he’d certainly lose, of waking Maia and having to answer her questions, and cringed. Things were agonising enough without adding that to his sins. 

The following morning, Antonius visited as promised. 

After obligatory greetings with Maia, he pointed Petrus towards his study, and shut the door against unwanted eavesdroppers. The moment they had privacy, Petrus rushed to speak. 

“Antonius, I -”

Antonius lifted a hand to shush him, and settled himself at the desk in Petrus’ usual chair. “I’ve dealt with Eugenus Flavo Tautillian. It was a misunderstanding on his part, and the wine loosened his tongue to an unfortunate degree. He will apologise, and speak no more on the matter.”

Petrus nodded. It was more than he could have hoped for, and a testament to Antonius’ standing and social power. But that wasn’t the most important thing to him at this time. 

“And...Vado?” 

Antonius’ look was unreadable.“I think it’s best you tell me about Vado - about your visits, about your friendship, about what happened at the  _ Vinalia _ . Leave nothing out.”

Petrus owed him that much. He set aside his discomfort and told him all of it. 

Antonius listened in silence, and when Petrus was done, he sat for long moments, lost in thought. It wasn’t the anger that Petrus had expected, or the scolding, and he clutched his hands together in his lap as he waited for Antonius’ verdict. 

“I’m glad you told me, Petrus,” the man said at last, “although I wish you had done so sooner.” 

Petrus’ throat felt tight and tears unexpectedly pricked his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Antonius leaned forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Mistakes are natural,” he reassured, “as long as we learn from them.”

He rose to his feet and smoothed out his toga. “I have some business to attend to - and some things for you to do as well. Keep this between us for now, and we’ll speak again in a few days.” 

“Of course,” Petrus mumbled. 

He would have to wait to find out his fate, then. 

\- De Testis Absentia - 

**26 Aprilis**

 

Early the next day, Iovus arrived with a long list of errands and tasks which were “of the utmost urgency” - and kept Petrus so busy that he barely had time to think of leaving the isolation of his study.

He made no complaint, for he owed it to Antonius, in some small way to make up for the last few days. He wanted to earn back Antonius’ trust and respect,

Where Vado fit in, he didn’t know, but he’d have to think on that later...

The following day should have been a day he visited with Vado, and Petrus felt the change in routine jarring. To think it had only been weeks since they’d first met. 

In his study that midmorning, Petrus was struggling to concentrate on some reading when their family’s slave, Naeva, announced a visitor. 

“Did they give a name?” 

“No,  _ domine _ ,” the girl answered. “Just said that Master Antonius had instructed him to attend here.”

It was odd, but Petrus was eager to take a break from his readings, and so with mild curiosity he made his way to the  _ atrium _ .

“Vado,” he gasped as he finally saw who was waiting for him. “Vado!”

He was running before he even considered how undignified it might look, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. 

Vado caught him in his large arms, and lifted him easily into the air. Petrus had been right; it felt safe, and it felt right. 

“What are you doing here? What did Naeva mean when she said Antonius had sent you? I don’t understand,” Petrus found himself babbling. “Are you well?”

“Steady on, sweetling,” Vado laughed as he settled Petrus on his feet once more, but even then he kept him in the circle of his arms, one hand running soothingly up and down his spine. “You look tired,” he commented, his bright blue eyes narrowed as they roamed Petrus’ features. 

“I’ve not been sleeping well,” Petrus admitted. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Ah, petal, there’s no need for that. I can look after myself.” Vado drew Petrus closer, tucking his head under his chin. He was warm, and surprisingly comfortable for a man with such defined muscles, and Petrus had the idle thought that he could get used to it. 

It gave him the courage to confess, “I...had to tell Antonius everything.”

Vado sucked in an exaggerated breath, and patted Petrus’ back. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. That man certainly has a way of getting what he wants. Plans and plans, he has. I wouldn’t want to be his enemy,” he added ruefully. 

Petrus pulled away in surprise; Vado’s hold tightened for a second, before he reluctantly released him. “You… spoke to him?”

It shouldn’t have surprised him - Antonius had demanded Vado stay behind at the festival. 

His answer was a reluctant nod. “I told him everything too…”

Petrus’ heart fell. “Oh no…” 

Somehow, no matter how difficult his conversation with Antonius, he was sure Vado’s would have been exponentially worse. 

“No, no, it was a good thing,” Vado corrected. “Well, I mean, after he shouted and stormed about and made some rather impractical but very inventive threats. Once he calmed down, we had a pretty good conversation. He really cares about you.”

The last few days hadn’t exactly felt like it, but Petrus knew it was true. 

“And what now?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I went before the magistrate yesterday.”

“You did?” It wasn’t quite the response Petrus had hoped for, but it was what had brought them together, and he had been asking Vado to go for near a month. 

Vado gave a serious nod. “Named the names, pointed the finger, cupped the testicles and all that. Of course, my employer wasn’t best pleased I brought him into it.”

Petrus was caught up in Vado’s tale, the soothing lilt of his voice, the comfort of his arms. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say, I am no longer under his employ.”

Petrus’ mouth went dry and he frowned. “I… didn’t mean for that to happen. Maybe I can talk to him - maybe Antonius can -”

Vado chuckled. “It’s fine, darling. I’ve already got another job.” There was something secretly delighted about the way he said it, and the way he held Petrus’ gaze. 

“Tell me,” he said, finding himself a touch breathless.

“He hired me as your personal man of business, if you’d have me.”

It took barely a second to process - the role itself and the implications of it; to have Vado close, to be able to remain friends, and a change in status that made a relationship just that touch more acceptable. 

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. 

“I mean, it comes with all sorts of caveats and dire warnings about your virtue, and I think possibly some lessons on discretion and public decency -” Vado was still talking. 

“Vado, I said yes,” Petrus interrupted. “Whatever the conditions, whatever we decide to make of it… I say yes.”

Vado’s eyes shone, and he gathered Petrus close once more. “I’ll be so good to you,” he promised, “and we can take it as slow as you like. I’ll be whatever you want me to be - friend, or lover, or a pack-donkey for all I care.”

“Let’s not quite go that far,” Petrus laughed. “We’ll figure it out as we go along, and it’s whatever  _ we _ want it to be.”

  
  


\- De Testis Absentia - 

  
  


Later, when he’d heard the full tale and they’d arranged for Vado’s belongings to be moved into a room next to his own, when Vado had met Maia and managed to charm her without any insult or swearing, the two of them sat in Petrus’ study. 

“I can’t believe Antonius didn’t tell me anything about his plans,” Petrus complained. “I should pay him back somehow…some sort of fitting revenge.”

Vado visibly winced. “Petrus, my dear one, my little duck, my heart of hearts… please don’t do anything to Antonius.”

Petrus frowned. “I mean, I wasn’t  _ really _ planning to...You don’t think he deserves it?”

“Maybe,” Vado capitulated, “but you didn’t think it through.”

“What do you mean?” 

“If you take revenge on Antonius, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”

Petrus shook his head, drawing a blank. 

Vado waited a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was as ominous as a soothsayer’s:

“I’ll be summoned as a witness, and I don’t think we’ll survive that a second time.”

  
  


\- Finis -

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes:
> 
> 1 - The entire concept for this fic is thanks to a tumblr post that I came across which described silly laws that the Ancient Romans used to have (I don’t know why we never learned them in school). The idea of being able to legally shout outside someone’s house if they didn’t show up to court was too good to pass up, and then of course, Peter and Wade got stuck in my head.
> 
> 2 - “De Testis Absentia”: when deciding on a title for the fic, I thought I may as well make use of my Latin language skills, and go the traditional route of authors such as Cicero’s De Re Publica and Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura. Most amusingly, however, when I came to translate “On the Absence of a Witness”, I found that the official translation for witness is “testis” - which can also be translated as “testicle”. This is due to a Roman tradition where men would cup their testicles as a sign of telling the truth while bearing witness in a public forum. 
> 
> When I put it to my fellow Spideypool writers whether to use a title that could mean “The absence of a witness” but also “lack of a testicle” the response was unanimously “YES”. So here we are. 
> 
> https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/games-primates-play/201112/testify-comes-the-latin-word-testicle
> 
> 3 - It’s always hard to write a gay romance story while trying to remain accurate to historical attitudes of said relationships. The Romans didn’t view sexuality in the same way as later cultures: their main concern revolved around the concept of “virtus” - a word used to describe a man’s character, valour, manliness, excellence, and worth all rolled into one, and was something that was generally only applied to adult male Roman citizens. Part of this was the idea that a man’s “virtus” was linked to his sexual prowess, and a man with “virtus” would never allow himself to be penetrated. Male-male relationships did exist, but were only acceptable under certain circumstances or roles, most particularly an unequal relationship i.e. an owner and his slave, a citizen and a non-citizen. I had to tweak and overlook a few details, but remained as realistic as I could. 
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality_in_ancient_Rome 
> 
> 4 - I would have loved to devote more time to this story, but the one good thing about deadlines is that it means I actually finish something. Still, I have some ideas for a companion piece from Vado’s point of view, as well as a few sequels focusing on other laws and other characters. So, watch this space.


End file.
